TRASHMOUTH. CD/DL/LP Spooky, raucous gothabilly pop from these south London label-mates of Fat White Family.
When they formed a year or so ago, Madonnatron could not, in any traditional sense, play their instruments. By the time they supported The Moonlandingz last September they were a compelling about-to-collapse live act, and now, with their debut album, they have claimed a sweet spot round about where The Cramps meet The Go-Go’s. There is sass and spookiness in their louche guitars and bass, in the thudding, syrupy drums, and in the vocals. The band almost chant, then croon, revelling in their witchy renditions of female archetypes, from the murderous mother in Headless Children to the getting-angry groupie in Secrets, lamenting and threatening over a benzo’d Hal Blaine drumbeat that leads us right into a wailing, cathartic frenzy. But this is proper pop, too – songs that will make you dance and sing along while you feel the seedy, swirling force.
Madonnatron: feel the seedy, swirling force.